


Traffic jamming

by Kingu



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Car Sex, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Hate Sex, Italian Medic, M/M, Original Character(s), Russian/Persian Heavy, Size Difference, TF2 OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingu/pseuds/Kingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What kind of a title is that..</p><p>A short fic about Vlad and Roswell being naughty while stuck in traffic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traffic jamming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TastyTexan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TastyTexan).



> Still loving those Italics! A short fic about our boys
> 
> You can find Refs for them here: http://vladwell.tumblr.com/ !

 

“ _черт возьми_ , Will this traffic ever _move_?” Vlad mutters under his breath, peering out of the broad windscreen before him at the crammed lanes of cars boxing them in, completely at a standstill, multiple horns blaring angrily outside.

“We’ve been here for hours” He comments again, before taking a deep drag from a fat cigar and aiming the exhale out the window he’d rolled down a crack, tossing the stub out onto the road. His impatient thoughts are distracted by a tight, breathless groan, feeling a sharp gasp warm his skin from where Roswell’s face presses into his neck, hiding himself from the Russian’s view.

“It’s a good thing I have you to entertain myself with, isn’t it, херувим?” The Mafia boss smirks down at the Doctor trembling in his lap, his crisp white shirt disheveled and hanging off his tanned shoulders, smart pants lost somewhere on the back seat. Roswell gives a whine of annoyance against Vlad’s thick neck, clinging to the huge man’s dark red shirt with white knuckles, knees quaking either side of the half-Russian’s lap.

“ _Don’t-_ ” The Italian starts, voice muffled against the dark skin of Vlad’s neck, the collar of his shirt damp and warm from where the Medic pants against it “Don’t open the window”

Vlad doesn’t answer right away, choosing to deliberately crook his immensely large fingers currently sheathed deep inside the Doctor, sending a jolt up the Italian’s spine as he chokes on a moan.

“Why? No-one can see you” Vlad reassures vaguely, slowly stroking Roswell’s warm, wet insides at a languid pace, feeling the Doctor’s legs tense and shake either side of him.

The Russian isn’t completely wrong, in his line of business, blacked-out car windows were a necessity. The only way anyone would see them was if they were to press their face right up against the glass, and even then, they would certainly be in for a surprise.

“ _Dannazione,_ Vlad, I’m _serious_ ” Roswell hisses against Vlad’s starch collar, face flushed red and screwed up in a sneer. His hands threaten to tear holes in the Russian’s smart shirt as the huge man continues to torment him with those massive fingers “Couldn’t it have waited until we got home?”

“Why bother waiting? We can do it right here” Vlad counters flatly with a strong, sudden curl of his fingers, pressing hard against the Doctor’s sweet spot and causing the far shorter man to bleat out a reluctant moan, shoving his face back into the crook of the Russian’s neck in an attempt to silence himself and hide his humiliation.

Vlad smirks as the Medic goes boneless in his lap, though he voices his disdain for Russian’s treatment, he can’t hide how his shapely hips push and buck back against the Heavy’s thick fingers, unconsciously seeking more of that sharp, precise pleasure.

Eventually, Vlad does roll the window back up out of consideration, mainly for the other road-goers, as he continues to dutifully work the Doctor open, his other massive, warm palm sliding around the Medic’s back to shield him from knocking the steering wheel and to keep the tiny man pressed firmly against his front.

Deciding he likes the reaction, the Heavy continues to prod and press his calloused fingertips directly against the Doctor’s prostate, teasing at the Medic’s most sensitive place with devastating precision that sends the normally stroppy Italian into a fit of high whines and warbling moans. Roswell’s brown eyes begin to flutter and roll in his skull, haplessly drooling against Vlad’s shirt where he turns and tosses his head, rapidly unwinding with every firm stroke over his prostate.

“ _Stop_ , it’s too- It’s too much” The Italian whines, pressing his cheek against Vlad’s barreled chest, feeling the giant’s heat through the cotton shirt while idly listening to his steady heartbeat. It doesn’t do much to ground or distract him from the two thick fingers thrusting steadily inside him, stretching him open enough to feel a significant burn, to feel obscene and _ashamed._

“Do you think there has been an accident?” Vlad asks casually, watching the surrounding stationary cars over Roswell’s head, despite how the Medic paws and gasps against his front, eyes screwing shut as a particularly fierce shock of pleasure lances through his body.

“Don’t change the subject!” Roswell spits, though the venom in his voice is significantly dampened as Vlad suddenly screws his fingers in deep, silencing the Medic’s complaints and forcing him to bark out a loud, hoarse moan, mouthing against Vlad’s collarbone as his body burns, cock grinding aimlessly against the hard bulge in the Russian’s pants.

Vlad gives an apologetic hum, dipping his head to mouth against Roswell’s slender neck and bare shoulders, marking his tanned skin with passionate kisses. He stills his prying fingers for a moment, giving the Medic some much needed reprise, though keeping them buried deep within the Doctor’s velvety hot insides.

Roswell practically sags in relief, breathing hard against Vlad’s broad chest, a few stray tendrils of long black hair falling into his flushed face. The cab is _disgustingly_ hot; having two bodies crammed in the front seat of a black car, trapped under the baking sun makes the cramped space feel more like an oven.

“Can we just go _home?_ ” Roswell asks breathlessly, slumped against Vlad’s chest, body occasionally twitching as he clenches around those thick, invading fingers. The Doctor pulls a face as Vlad continues to nip at his neck, trying to scrunch his shoulder up in an attempt to dislodge Vlad’s mouth from where it sucks at his skin.

“Would you like to get out and see what the holdup is?” Vlad asks lightly, giving his fingers an experimental wiggle that draws a tired whine from the Medic “You can always walk”

Roswell scowls at the very suggestion.

“ _Lo non voglio... idiota_ ” He mutters, before shoving his face back into Vlad’s sternum, hips bucking weakly, already feeling stretched to capacity despite only having two fingers inside.

“Don’t complain, then” Vlad chides flatly, before slowly withdrawing his thick fingers, despite how the Medic’s ass practically grip the digits.

Roswell’s initial reaction is to give a muffled sigh of relief as Vlad withdraws his hand, only to squeal in disdain as the Giant realigns not two, but three large fingers up with his entrance, not even bothering to reapply the lube that’d been forgotten on the passenger seat.

“Wait, wait, that’s too many-” The Doctor can only brace himself against Vlad’s solid chest, mouth hanging open and eyes wide as the Russian keeps the fingers pointed into a spear, gradually pressing them through Roswell’s tight muscles, sliding in deep until his knuckles meet the Medic’s ass.

“Ngh- _Fuck!_ ” The Italian gasps as the Heavy’s fingers stretch him unbearably wide, face screwing up into a pained sneer as he stuffs his own knuckles in his mouth, anything the stifle the mortifying sounds the Russian was forcing from him. The Medic’s ass squeezes sinfully tight around Vlad’s fingers, and the Heavy himself groans, relishing in that hot, slick grip.

“God I can’t wait to get home and _fuck_ you” Vlad rumbles into the Doctor’s ear, hips bucking beneath the Medic to grind up against him, cock arched and straining up against his pants, but that would have to wait.

“ _Shut up”_ Roswell hisses irately, despite how his own cock leaks steadily between his thighs, every crook of his body damp with sweat in the stifling heat of the car; “You’re a _beast_ ”

The insult doesn’t seem to faze the giant, choosing to retaliate not with words, but with a sharp jab of his hand, practically ramming his fingertips into the Doctor’s soft insides and wrenching a reluctant moan from the Italian, mouth wide around a hoarse shout as Vlad roughly fingers him into a panting, red-faced mess.

“You love it” The Heavy leers, breath hot and thick against Roswell’s ear, bristly beard tickling the others neck as Roswell continues to moan and whine against his front, brows pinched with a conflicted ecstasy as Vlad’s fingers bring him closer and closer to the brink. One hand slaps against the steamy window, dragging multiple streaks down the fogged glass as Roswell thrashes and bucks weakly in the Russian’s lap, legs twitching and his knee occasionally bumping the gear stick, wracked by a fit of uncontrollable shudders. His cock dribbles warm precum against the front of Vlad’s slacks, balls tight and body poised as all he can focus on is that otherworldly pleasure threatening to make him lose his mind.

“Are you close?” Vlad asks in that deep husky voice that thrums throughout Roswell’s entire being. The Italian doesn’t give an immediate answer, one hand clawing aimlessly at the window while he chews on the knuckles of the other, huffing through his clenched jaw as Vlad continues to mercilessly assault his insides. But Vlad won’t stand for that. His free hand reaches up to grab at Roswell’s long ponytail, wrenching his head back fast enough to pull something in the Doctor’s neck, causing the man’s eyes to snap open in alarm.

“ _Well?_ ” The Russian purrs, keeping a tight hold on Roswell’s hair as his fingers begin to thrust at a punishing pace, jack hammering into the Doctor’s prone, slick ass hard and fast, causing the Italian to throw his head back and keen toward the low ceiling. Roswell stares at the roof with wide, unseeing eyes, mouth agape as he cries out in a near endless moan.

“No no _no,_ _smettelia_ , Vlad!” The Medic whines, hand slamming against the roof with a rattling bang as the Russian’s calloused fingers rub incessantly over his prostate, sending waves of intense heat straight to his cock, coiling like a spring in his gut. Roswell’s fat thighs begin to quiver and shake either side of the Russian, toes curling in his cotton socks as his body draws tense, the overwhelming sensation reaching it pinnacle as Vlad’s fingers flick rapidly over his sweet spot, pushing him to an orgasm Roswell knows will be so powerful it fills him with something akin to dread.

Hot pleasure builds at the base of his spine, and Roswell’s stomach muscles tighten under the layer of soft fat before he can’t hold it any longer. He can’t stop his hips from grinding back against Vlad’s thick fingers as finally, he comes undone.

“Fuck – _FUCK_ , I’m coming-!”

Vlad’s wide mouth splits into a wicked grin as the Italian’s body goes taught in his hold, spine curved in a drastic arch and keening loud and long to the heavens as Roswell's orgasm burns through him, seizing his body with overwhelming pleasure the leaves the Medic senseless and dazed.

In that moment, this is the only thing that matters to Roswell, dimly aware that he can see the other drivers through the one-sided glass, but he doesn’t care. He’d let them watch if it just meant he could get to this level of blissful ecstasy again.

The Doctor’s brown eyes screws shut, mouth stretched open around an endless moan as his muscles clamp down like a vice around Vlad’s fingers, body wracked with spasms as warm release spurts from his cock.

“That’s it” Vlad croons, holding the Medic tight and fingering him dutifully through his orgasm, despite how the man’s ass spasms and squeezes his fingers in an almost painful grip. The little Italians high whines of unbridled euphoria are music to the Heavy’s ears, taking no small amount of joy and pride in forcing the stuck up man to let go of his inhibitions for once.

Eventually, the startling, consuming pleasure gradually dwindles to a warm, pleasant tingle that makes Roswell’s feel weightless, like he’s floating. His chest heaves with deep, shaky breaths, trembling body eventually falling still as the aftershocks fade. And then, he goes limp, sagging against Vlad’s warm front, completely uncaring about the mess of semen smeared between them.

The Russian allows him to rest this time, idly stroking the Doctor’s back while slowly withdrawing his wet fingers, noting how the Medic winces and whines quietly, but otherwise gives no other complaints.

Taking the rare opportunity of the usually feisty Italian being so mellow and sated, Vlad leans his head down to plant a sweet kiss atop Roswell’s damp hair. He gets a knock in the teeth for his efforts as Roswell’s head jerks up.

“ _Don’t do that_ ” The Medic hisses venomously, not before tacking on a resentful “ _Fascina_ ”

Vlad’s content smile falters, brow quirking down into a tiresome frown.

“Fine” He grunts, gripping the Doctor by the shoulders and lightly pushing him away.

Not without fixing the Heavy a scornful, if not weary glare, Roswell gradually gathers himself up to awkwardly clamber back into the passenger seat, wincing at the sharp sting that shoots through his backside as he plunks himself down into the chair. Vlad rolls his eyes as Roswell gives a loud, deliberate huff, pulling his shirt tightly around himself and folding his bare legs, skin already sticking to the hot leather seat.

“You nearly pulled my hair out, you _idiot_ ” The Medic snaps, face screwed up in a sulk despite the pink flush staining his face and neck, the scent of sex thick around them. He won’t even look at the Heavy, glaring intently out the window at nothing in particular, resting his cheek on his hand and muttering angrily; “Take me home”

Vlad can only chuckle, shaking his head at the drastic switch in the Medic’s demeanor, despite having just been roughly fingered in the middle of the highway.

The two remain in silence as the Heavy cleans himself up with a box of tissues from the glove box, offering one to the Doctor only to have it promptly batted away. Again, Vlad rolls his eyes.

Eventually, The Russian has two hands firmly back on the wheel, noticing the car in front has barely moved. He turns the ignition, edging forward to close the small gap and catch up with the rest of the traffic. Roswell remains staring furiously out the window, body turned as far away from the Heavy as his seat will allow. He doesn’t look over when Vlad gives a thoughtful hum.

“Hm, Looks like we missed lunch”

Roswell’s narrow eyes slide over to meet Vlad’s suggestive gaze, shoulders heaving in another sigh before reluctantly conceding.

“Fine, take me for dinner, _then_ I want to go home.”


End file.
